Snake in the Grass
by Sionnain
Summary: He's not supposed to be out of prison, and she's not supposed to be in a bar. Magneto takes advantage of the situation to see if maybe he can convince her to come back. Follows issue 69 of Ultimate XMen. Rogue, Magneto. RogueXGambit, RogueXBobby.


** AN: **This fic takes place after issue #69 of Ultimate X-Men.

**Snake in the Grass**

Sometimes a girl just had to get away. Especially if that girl was sharing brain-space with her former lover, who was real noisy, like when she was trying to spend time with her _current_ lover. Who she was only sleeping with out of….something she hadn't quite figured out yet.

It was enough to drive a girl to drink, which is exactly what Rogue was doing.

She sat in the booth, shoulders hunched over, trying to hide her red eyes from the rest of the bar's patrons. Figures that when she got the deadly skin thing under control—it was still sort of liberating not to wear all those clothes, but she was kind of used to the gloves so she kept those—she'd have something _else_ that made her stand out.

_Mutant. Freak._

Inside her head, Remy's soft voice soothed her with whispered endearments to dull the pain of the words she couldn't help but think. She felt a pang when she thought of him, remembering how it had been in Vegas, just the two of them. He'd been the first not to care about the powers that made her so dangerous, the first to touch her, the first—

Sighing, Rogue slipped further down in her seat, her white gloved hands tracing absent patterns over her glass of bourbon and water. Remy's drink. She was too young to be in here, but it was the kind of place where no one really cared how old you were as long as you could pay. Which she could, though she didn't think her parents would really approve of how she was spending her allowance.

The bourbon was too strong and she didn't really like it, but Remy did, and she felt she owed him something since she was the reason he was—

_Lying trapped beneath the rubble, his body broken and destroyed._

Rogue shuddered, taking a large swallow of her drink and letting the strong taste burn through her. She hated thinking about Gambit, about what had happened, about how it was _her_ fault—her past—that had killed him.

If it weren't for Cain, Remy would still be alive. They'd be in Vegas, her in that tight red dress he so loved and him in his long brown duster with his charmer's smile, throwing dice across green-velvet tables. Rogue would drink a virgin pina colada and go back to the room with him, breathless and excited while he touched her with his clever thief's hands.

_He's dead because of you. Because you fought in the Brotherhood, because of what you did at the Bridge. Since you killed so many people, God took the only one you'd ever loved._

That wasn't the God that Kurt was always telling her was in _his_ Bible, but what did he know? Her God was vengeful, and punished sinners mercilessly. Rogue was most certainly a sinner, and God had enacted His vengeance by taking away Remy, her soulmate. Now he lived in her head and teased her with his little words of love in a language she knew but didn't. It was worse, really, this mockery of him that was left inside of her. If it had to end between them, she'd rather he'd have just left her somewhere, Reno maybe, than live like some ghost in her mind.

Rogue swigged more of the bourbon, coughing and pretending she hadn't when a few men looked over at her from the barstools upon which they sat. Her fingers slid in the pocket of her jeans and touched the cards, just for reassurance. She was getting better at using them, at mastering these new powers.

She was _also_ getting better at pretending it was all okay, being back with the X-Men and being with Bobby, but there were nights Remy got too loud and she couldn't stand Bobby's grin or his clueless attempts to make her happy. Nothing was ever gonna be all right no-how, just like Hank Williams used to say in the records she'd listen to with her dad on Sundays. Didn't matter how much Bobby pretended she was the same, or how she pretended she was happy she didn't have deadly skin anymore, it was all…

_Wrong._

Rogue finished her drink and stood up, slightly unsteady on her feet. She had enough money for a cab, but maybe she'd walk back home instead. At least, for a little while, her mind would be quiet and then she could sober up.

She saw the man disappear into the alley and did a double-take. _No. It can't be. He's in prison…_ She blinked several times, creeping a bit closer to where they'd vanished, though she really shouldn't follow them. It was irrational to think Magneto had been sprung out of the Triskelion, and anyway you shouldn't follow strange men into alleys, because people never got up to anything good in alleys.

She only thought it was him because the man had shoulder-length white hair and was tall, just like her former commander. There was no way he'd…no. She moved closer, ignoring the accompanying barrage of mental warnings—some in English, others in French—and listened.

"I think you should be very careful not to anger me, Tom. I am only here for a week, and I expect you to fulfill the terms of our agreement to the letter."

_Oh, God._ Rogue felt the blood drain from her head as the man spoke; there was no mistaking that voice for anyone else. It reminded her of the preacher at the church her mama had insisted she started going to when her powers manifested, as if her being a mutant made her a more likely candidate for the Devil to possess her.

She remembered the Bridge, remembered the explosions and the feel of fire on her back. _Maybe it did._  
Rogue stood with her back pressed to the wall, feeling the sharp bite of the roug stone through her shirt, and thought about her options. She needed to get back to the mansion and alert the others, _now_.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get you the goods before you go home. How is it they think you're still in that plastic prison, anyway?"

_Yeah, how is that, exactly?_

"How do you know I'm not, Tom?" Magneto's voice was faintly amused. "Perhaps you're only dreaming I'm here."

"My dreams are usually a lot prettier'n you," the man muttered. "Now, if you'll 'scuse me, got to go. Buyin' all this stuff's gonna take me some time." His voice was almost wheedling.

"You have one week, Black Tom. Don't make me come find you, either. You won't like it, I promise." Magneto's voice slid into dangerous, and Rogue felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Yeah. I believe that," the man named Black Tom muttered. Rogue thought about running, but before she did, he left the alley in the sort of skulking fashion one would expect from a man named _Black Tom_.

Rogue remained perfectly still, hoping perhaps Magneto would follow and she could escape his notice. It didn't seem like she was going to be that lucky, though.

"I know you're there, whoever you are. You're wearing metal. Why don't you come around the corner and we'll have a little chat?"

_Run, chere._

She didn't need Gambit's encouragement for _that_.

Rogue took off at run, but she didn't get very far. Something cold and metal wrapped around her midsection, and before she could scream, she was swallowed up by the shadows of the alley and flung against the wall as if by magic.

"Let me go!" she said immediately. "Didn't see nothin'." She tried to make her voice rough and petulant, and slurred as it was from the bourbon, maybe he'd think she was just some drunk human, in the wrong place at the wrong time…

Except possibly being a human around Magneto was not exactly a good way to ensure escape.

"Now, now. I'm sure you didn't. Let me look at you."

Rogue felt a gloved hand on her chin and her head was jerked up sharply, and there he was, Magneto, looking just as she remembered him. Harsh features, chill blue eyes, white hair framing his face. "Wait…I know you, don't I?"

"No," Rogue said immediately. Did he think she was an _idiot_?

_Yeah, I used to be one of your whacked-out recruits. Until that nuclear detonation, then I jumped ship and took up with the X-Men. How've you been? Say, shouldn't you be in jail?_

His eyes narrowed. "Stupid. Lying to me is stupid…as if you could fool _me_. How are you, _Rogue_?'

Damn it all to hell. "Don't know—" She yelped suddenly as more metal affixed her wrists above her head. He threw her back against the wall again for good measure.

He smirked at her. "Of course you don't know. Now, I remember you—you were one of mine, weren't you?"

Rogue narrowed her eyes, kicking her legs out in a move she'd learned in training. Magneto sidestepped smoothly and laughed, which made her angry. "Your white hair is forever impressed upon my memory, but your eyes—they weren't always that lovely shade of crimson, were they?"

"No. After you decided to go all nuclear, I took up with Xavier's crew. But I left," she said quickly, watching his face tighten at his rival's name. "So there ain't no reason for you to want me dead."

"Yes. You left with Gambit. Cain told me all about his little adventure trying to find you. So sorry to hear about the Cajun." His smile was sharp, and his words buried beneath her breast like a knife. Damn him. "He had red eyes, too…how curious."

How did he—

"Knowledge is power, young Rogue," he said huskily, tracing a finger down her cheek. He was wearing gloves, and the leather was cool and smooth against her cheek. She shuddered and turned her face away as best she could. "You kill with a touch, as I recall."

"Yeah. So you best just let me go," Rogue said bravely, her bravado helped slightly by the bourbon she'd ingested. _Goddamn it, why didn't I take a cab?_ "And I won't tell anyone you're not in prison like you're supposed to be."

Magneto stepped closer to her, his eyes blazing. His hands braced on either side of her head, his face very close to hers. "I am still in prison, girl. As all of us are, until we manage to rid the earth of the scum who would see us all dead."

She was unwillingly captivated by the blazing ferocity of his eyes, by the harshness of the power he radiated. Rogue licked her lips, stalling, thinking of something to say. She'd heard his rhetoric before. It always ended badly. Like with nuclear explosions.

He pressed onwards, taking advantage of her silence. "You used to believe in my mission, didn't you? You used to be my soldier." His voice gentled, and his hands moved closer to her throat.

Rogue choked back a whimper as she felt the leather caressing her skin. It reminded her of Gambit, how he used to touch her in the dark. "Wouldn't you like to be my soldier again? So much power I could give you…don't you want that?"

"You don't know what I want, Magneto," Rogue said carefully, hating the tremble in her voice. The wall hurt her back, and every time she shifted, she felt her black t-shirt tear.

"Not touch, is it?" His fingers skirted around her collarbone, the touch light and easy. "What is it you want? Just tell me. I'll get it for you."

His arrogance was infuriating. _I want Gambit back. I want to not have hooked up with you._ "Don't matter. You can't ever give it to me, Magneto."

"Are you so sure about that?" His hands were at her waist, resting there lightly, and his voice was slowly becoming hypnotic. She found herself unable to look away from him, her gaze trapped by the soft chill of his pale eyes.

"I'm pretty sure," she whispered, thinking about Gambit. _Don't cry, ma chere. Don't cry…Remy hates it when his cherie cries…_ "God, stop it," she moaned, twisting, as Remy's voice became louder in her mind.

_Have to get home, find Bobby. Have to do something to make me Rogue again, just Rogue, not Remy…God, who am I, I can't--_

"Look at me," Magneto demanded, his voice as hard as the stone beneath her back. Helpless, Rogue did so, breathing very quickly in her panic and her fear. "I do not know what's been done to you, but I can help you. Fight for me, and I shall fix this for you, Rogue."

She stared at him, unable to speak. "You can't. No one can," she whispered, tasting tears in her mouth and going limp in his makeshift restraints. "No one…"

"I can," Magneto said, leaning forward. His fingers brushed at the tears on her face. "No more crying, girl. Come with me, and you may wreck vengeance upon whomever you wish. I will cast them at your feet, I promise you. Cain? Do you want to make him hurt for taking away your lover? I can give him to you, pretty girl." His mouth was right next to her ear, shielded from her skin by her hair.

He didn't know her skin no longer killed. It was her one advantage, since he apparently wasn't thinking that in addition to Gambit's red eyes, she had his powers in lieu of her own. "You. You're the one who did this to me. If I'd never followed you…"

"No, no." His voice was insistent, throbbing. She could feel his breath hot against her ear, and it made her trembling worse. "I saved you. From Weapon X. All of these horrible things only happened when you left me, didn't they, Rogue? When you turned your back on your destiny and left my service for those…those useless, pathetic pacifists?"

"No," she whispered, but she was trapped, and his voice was seductive and dark in her ear.

"Yes," he murmured, and his hands—oh, God, were they—they were, tracing up her stomach, ghosting just under her breasts. The touch wasn't as sexual as it was soothing, as if she were a frightened horse he wanted to gentle. "Come with me."

"I thought you were in prison," Rogue tossed back; though for a rejoinder, it was fairly weak.

"Neither of us believe that, do we?" He pulled back a little; the smile he gave her was terrifying. She imagined him in battle regalia, his hands raised, the cloud of orange and death rising behind him like some sinister backdrop. "Now, stop fighting me. You don't want to fight me…you want to fight _with_ me. I promise, Rogue, everything you want…it can all be yours."

Remy's voice, loud and clear. _Remy knows when a man is lyin', chere. Don't you listen._

But the temptation of it was so very great. To make Cain pay for what he'd done. To make the voices _stop_…but what promise of Magneto's could she _possibly_ believe? No, he only wanted to use her, like Weapon X had. Like he had before, with the Bridge…_no_.

His body was very warm, pressed against hers. The back of the wall was cold, the restraints were pulling at her wrists. She'd have bruises in the morning.

"Yes, you want to, don't you? I can tell." He smiled against her ear, and his fingers returned to their slow, torturous caresses. "Be my soldier again, Rogue. Take your rightful place. Make the world tremble before you, as you are meant to do." The fanaticism in his tone had a dreamy, reverent quality.

"You know, Magneto…" The bourbon she'd consumed was gone; she felt clear-headed, dangerous. "I think I'm gonna have to pass."

"A pity," he murmured, and several moments passed in tense quiet, the air between them unmoving and still. She felt seconds turn into minutes before she his hands fastened around her neck, the touch no longer light. "I'm afraid I can't let you live, of course." His voice hardened. "Stupid girl, you shouldn't refuse my offer when it is the only thing guaranteeing your survival at present. Doesn't Charles teach you anything at that school of his?"

"Some things. Other things I learned on my own." With that, she used Gambit's power to charge the restraints around her wrists. Magneto wasn't expected that; when the charge went off, effectively releasing her, she slid from the wall and grinned at him. "Like that."

She took her one chance and charged the cards in her pockets, tossing them at him. With Gambit's increased dexterity, she was able to dodge Magneto's return attack, which predictably included him trying to toss metal objects at her. She kept tossing the cards at him, throwing him off balance so he couldn't use his powers to restrain her again.

"The next time I see you, I shall not be so generous," he snarled at her, and she ducked the metal trashcan he sent sailing her way.

"Me neither," she tossed back, leaping out of the alleyway. She didn't think he'd follow her. Whatever reason he had for being in town, he was going to want to be out of there before she told the X-Men he wasn't in prison.

Maybe she wouldn't tell them. As he'd said, knowledge was power, wasn't it? And who knew. Maybe there'd be a time she'd want to take him up on that offer, after all.


End file.
